Just The Once
by findtheriver
Summary: On the day of Fred's funeral, George needs a way to escape.


**Hello again :)**

**Second fic today... This is Angelina/George and a little rushed.**

**Enjoy :)  
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Our eyes meet at the funeral and I have to look away. The pain in George Weasley's eyes is unbearable, and is worsened by his resemblance to Fred. I tighten my grip on Alicia's hand and she nods.

"Do you want to go?" She whispers in my ear, careful to be discreet.

I shake my head and she sighs. We sit through the service in silent tears, like everyone else attending, apart from George. I watch him out of the corner of my eye and feel like I'm intruding. He has chosen to sit on his own, away from the rest of his family. The Weasley's are sat together, along with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Bill's wife Fleur, but George is as far away from them as possible. He sits like a stone statue, not moving and not crying.

"Has he cried at all?" I ask Alicia when the service is over.

She looks at me, confused. Her face is tear-streaked and her eyes red.

"George," I say, "Has he cried at all?"

She shrugs and I get up, without thinking, to go talk to him. I slide into the seat beside him, unable to look him in the eye.

"Hi Angelina," he says, his voice rough and gravelly.

"Have you cried?" I blurt out.

I try to take the question back as soon as I have asked. Unsure as to why I asked, I wait his answer anxiously. It was insensitive and probably more offensive than I had intended to be. I catch Alicia's gaze and that awful, empty look is in her eye that makes me instantly regret coming to the funeral, let alone talking to George, because I know that what I will see in his eyes will be worse.

"Once," he cleared his throat, sounding ashamed, "only once."

I open my mouth to reply but find no words to say. Fred was the first person close to me to die and I am having trouble dealing with my own grief, and the thought of dealing with George's truly baffles me.

"Angelina," he says my name and I look at him, properly, for the first time. He looks tired. The rings circling his eyes and the look in them belong to a man at least three times his age. "Can we go somewhere?"

I am surprised, but I nod anyway, keen for an excuse to leave. He says no goodbye to his family and I turn to wave to Alicia but she herself has gone. As we walk for what seems like an eternity in silence, I feel tears well up and force them back.

We end up in the middle of nowhere. It is quiet and peaceful, miles away from the sadness of the funeral. I feel calm and reasonably content despite the circumstances, and turn to look at George. The look in his eyes has changed. Still mournful, he looks calm, like me. And like that, we kiss. It is the day of his brother's funeral and we are both crying, but that kiss keeps us together. When I pull away, I feel wrong. I feel as if I am betraying Fred's memory, and I can see that George is thinking the same thing.

"He'd want me to be happy." He says.

I frown, unsure whether he is trying to convince himself or me.

"I've lost a massive part of me, but that doesn't change the way I feel about you. And he'd want me to be happy. Angelina, I understand if you don't want this," he stops, his voice breaking. After a deep breath he continues, his eyes fixed on me. "But I do."

"But the funeral..." I say, unable to deny that I want it too. "Today was the funeral. It seems wrong. People will-"

"Yes, people will talk," he interrupts, "but I don't care. I'm not betraying Fred's memory and nor am I forgetting him. It's bloody impossible for me to forget him. I just think that I should be able to escape. The stares from my family are enough to send me insane and the face that I see in the mirror haunts me. I should be allowed something away from that. Just the once. Even if we never do this again, I've had my escape. Don't get me wrong, I really like you Angelina and I'd happ-" he stops when he begins to say happily, and restarts the phrase. "I'd like to take this further. But I understand that it could get hard for you."

I am truly stunned and then I decide that I want to give him his escape. I kiss him and he kisses me back, holding me like I could slip through his fingers if he is careless. This time we do not cry because it seems right. He needed an escape and this was it. I would happily be his escape forever, but I understand that things might not work out. If they do not, I am happy to be his escape, just the once.


End file.
